


Special Delivery

by alittlebitAlexie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidents, Apologies, Bartender Draco Malfoy, Bartender Pansy Parkinson, Confrontations, Death Eater Trials mentioned, Diagon Alley, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Flatmates Draco and Pansy, Gay Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Kissing, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nightclub, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Outing, Owl Post (Harry Potter), POV Draco Malfoy, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Running Away, Secret Crush, Snogging, Undressing, Unrequited Crush, Veritaserum, panic attack (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebitAlexie/pseuds/alittlebitAlexie
Summary: After his trial, Draco writes apology letters to everyone he has hurt. Not so special. But he writestwoto Harry. One to actually send, and one (that was never meant to see the light of day) to pour his heart out and admit things like thinking Harry has a fit arse and was his sexual awakening.What could go wrong?Well, Pansy could accidentally mail the wrong letter. That's what.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 33
Kudos: 490





	1. The Letter

Draco slumped back in his chair, trying to rub the stress headache out of his temples. He’d been sitting at his tiny desk for hours writing letter after letter. He cracked his neck and rubbed the bags under his eyes. Maybe he could finally get a good night’s sleep. The war was over, and therefore the threat of living with the Dark Lord. Even so, he hadn’t slept more than a few hours at a time since his trial. 

All accused Death Eaters and sympathizers were given private trials so as to minimize public opinion affecting the outcome. Other than the Wizengamot, only the accused, their legal counsel, and any relevant witnesses were allowed in the courtroom. And of course, Harry sodding Potter was a key witness in Draco’s. Could it get any more humiliating?

Yes. Yes it could. Because as Draco sat in his grubby Ministry-issued detainee robes, Potter strode into the courtroom, all quiet certainty and determined gaze. 

Draco knew he was damned to live out the rest of his days in Azkaban. Potter was there, after all, as a witness called by the prosecution. Draco had been doing everything he could not to tremble in his chair at the notion that his schoolboy rival was about to be the one to seal his fate to a life in Azkaban. After all, Potter had seven years of ammunition on why Draco was a terrible person.

But he didn’t say any of that. Instead he said Draco did not deserve to go to Azkaban at all.

Draco was stunned.

When he spoke of sixth year, Potter made it abundantly clear that he believed Draco to have merely been going through the motions of his servitude in order to survive and protect his family, rather than because he believed in the cause. Potter stressed that Draco had been acting under duress and did what anyone else would have done to stay alive.

Potter went on to say that Draco’s attempts to kill Albus Dumbledore were feeble. Draco nearly scoffed that Potter seemed to be defending him by calling him weak. But he went on to say that if Draco had truly wanted Dumbledore dead, he would have found a way to make it happen. 

Draco could only stare in shock as Potter described him as “smart, resourceful, and determined” and therefore wasn’t truly trying to commit murder. If he had been, he wouldn’t have chosen a random student to attempt to get a necklace to Dumbledore, that he would surely have been smart enough not to touch. And he wouldn’t have poisoned a bottle of mead that  _ might _ make its way to Dumbledore. And he wouldn’t have given it to the one person most likely to survive ingesting it, based on proximity to antidotes and knowledge of poisons.

For the next few minutes all Draco had been able to think was that Potter had called him smart, resourceful, and determined. The bloody Savior of the wizarding world just complimented him for the first time ever. He had been shocked back to the present when Potter started talking about the fateful night at the top of the Astronomy tower. Apparently, Potter had been there all along. 

Potter said that Draco had gained the upper hand by disarming the Headmaster. He had had an open shot. But he  _ chose _ to lower his wand. He was not a killer. He had been acting only to save his own life, but not at the expense of another’s. Fuck, Potter had made him look good. 

Then onto the events at Malfoy Manor. Potter described, in immense detail, everything that happened that day, from the snatchers to the dungeon to Granger’s torture. Draco had felt the bile rise up in his throat just thinking about what Bellatrix had done to her, what he had been made to watch. Potter sat there and told the Wizengamot that he believed, no, that he knew, Draco had recognized him but chose not to identify. When asked how he knew, Potter had said the look in Draco’s eyes had confirmed it, that he’d known those eyes for seven years and could tell.

Potter had taken a few moments to gather his thoughts after that.

He summarized that Draco’s refusal to identify him in Malfoy Manor ultimately saved his life and therefore had a direct and powerful impact on the outcome of the war. With jaw set and eyes piercing, Potter then calmly stood from the witness chair and retook his seat in the gallery.

Then Draco had been called forth to defend himself.

Draco had been questioned extensively under the influence of Veritaserum, administered by Aurors, at the start of his testimony. When asked if he was loyal to Voldemort, he irrevocably stated that he was not. When asked to elaborate, he was spurred on by the Veritaserum.

“I was raised to believe being pureblood made me better than everyone else. And that muggleborns, half bloods, blood traitors, and those deemed impure were lesser people. I know now that could not be further from the truth. Someone’s blood status or so-called “purity” does not define them. A werewolf can be an excellent professor. A muggleborn can be top of her class. A gay man can change the course of a war for the better.” 

Potter seemed to choke on air at this notion. He just spent the last hour waxing poetic about Draco’s reformation. Was he really surprised Draco didn’t hold those bigotted beliefs anymore?

“What made you realize this?” a witch in the second row had asked.

“Had I continued to believe what I was taught, I would have believed myself worthy of persecution for something I have no more control over than what blood I was born with.” Draco was intentionally trying to be evasive. He was trying to let out the bare minimum of what the Veritaserum was forcing him to divulge to avoid saying—

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m gay.” —that. 

Fuck.

Draco willed himself to keep his head held high. He was not ashamed of his homosexuality. But he had not come out to his parents yet; there had just never been a good time, what with there being a genocidal maniac on the loose by the time Draco realized he was gay. And hearing about it in the Daily Prophet was not how he wanted them to find out. He gazed defiantly at the witches and wizards before him. But one stood out. Harry Potter sat stock still, mouth ever so slightly ajar, with cheeks redder than the Wizengamot’s robes.

The rest of his trial went by in a blur. While all the extenuating circumstances of acting under duress helped sway sympathy in his favor, it came down to the events at Malfoy Manor. The Wizengamot believed that his fate should rest on whether or not he actually recognized Harry. They said he could not be exculpated just because he could not tell who it was. It was the deliberate deception in order to spare Potter that proved his intent and therefore whether or not he was guilty. They couldn’t argue with Draco’s words under Veritaserum. He confirmed that he had recognized Potter, but chose not to identify him in order to save him.

He was acquitted.

After his trial he could barely stand the sight of the Manor, much less live in it. He found a small two bedroom flat in London to share with Pansy. They wanted to leave the war behind and try to live a normal life. Draco knew that he never could. But he could try.

The problem was he would never be able to truly leave the war behind. He tossed and turned all night thinking of all the people he had hurt, of all the lives he had destroyed. It went on for weeks before he decided he had to do something to assuage his guilt. This is what led him to write the letters.

Draco knew there were more people impacted by his role in the war than he could ever know, but for the ones that he knew, he would apologize. He wrote until his hand cramped and his vision blurred. He wrote to Luna Lovegood, Garrick Ollivander, and Dean Thomas for his family’s involvement in their imprisonment. He wrote to Hermione Granger for his treatment of her throughout school and for what happened to her at the Manor. He even wrote to Ronald Weasley for his years of torment and the loss of his brother. He wrote so many letters he had no hope of keeping track. 

He had a pile of letters spilling off his desk by the time he got to the last one. Harry Potter’s. How could he write anything that could even begin to scratch the surface of what he had to say to Harry Potter? What he needed absolution for? He downed a rather large glass of firewhiskey, stared at the blank parchment for a good 10 minutes, and down another large glass before proceeding.

_~~Dear Harry,~~ _ __

_ Potter, _

_ I’m sorry  _ _ ~~I was a complete twat~~ _ _ for my involvement in the war. I’m sorry that I insulted your friends and  _ _~~cheated at~~ _ _ was unsportsmanlike during Quidditch.  _

_ Thank you for  _ _~~saving me from the Fiendfyre and then from a life in Azkaban~~ _ _ speaking at my trial.  _ _~~I didn’t deserve it.~~ _ _ I didn’t deserve it. How could I ever live up to the great Harry Potter? With your good deeds and fit arse.  _

_ Fuck, this letter is a disaster. What do I even say to you? I’ll never send this version anyway. So yeah, your fit arse. And that insufferably charming rat’s nest you call hair. And your Quidditch skills that could make a man cry. I mean, not since I was 12, but still. _

_ You’re just perfect. _

_ Even my part in helping win the war was because of you. Obviously, since I was outed at my trial, you know now that half of why I realized the Dark Lord’s cause was all bollocks is because I’m fucking bent. Well, guess what, oh Chosen One. That was because of you too.  _

_ You’re the one who made me realize I was gay in the first place. So thanks for that. Triwizard Tournament, you against that dragon? Come on. You can’t tell me that wasn’t every other fourth year’s sexual awakening too. Salazar, I wanted to go to the Yule Ball with you so badly. Not that I’d ever be good enough for you anyway. _

_ There’s nothing I could ever do to be good enough. _

_ If I could go back and change it all, I would. If I could go back to our first ride on the train and not be a twat, I would. I just wanted to impress you. If I could go back to third year and not try to get Hagrid sacked or Buckbeak killed, I would. I was just embarrassed. If I could go back and not take the Dark Mark, I would. I was just trying to survive. None of these reasons excuse the things I did. But maybe you can see how they can explain them. _

_ By the time I was old enough to think for myself, I was never on the Dark Lord’s side. Not really. I never wanted you to get hurt. I always wanted you to win.  _

_ I think that’s quite enough baring of my soul for one day. Now, I’ll write the actual letter to send you. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Draco Malfoy _

Draco shoved the parchment to the side and pulled a fresh piece towards him. The letter he wrote to actually send to Potter was much shorter than the rough draft. He merely apologized for his part in the war and thanked him for speaking at his trial. It was nearly 3am by the time he finished writing.

“What are you still doing up?” Pansy strode in the front door and threw her cloak over a chair. 

“Writing.” Draco quickly covered the fake Potter letter with the real Potter letter so she wouldn’t see. “All the apology letters I’ve been talking about. I wrote them all.” He gestured to the mountain of envelopes on the desk.

“Oh, Draco. Are you okay? I know that can’t have been easy.” Pansy made for their small kitchen. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Writing them was the easy part. Sending them is what’s going to be hard. You can pour your heart out on paper and never send it and it’s the easiest thing in the world. But actually having someone read it?” Draco sighed and followed her into the other room. “On top of the fact that I’ll have to go to the Owl Post Office to send all of them since I don’t fancy sending Noctua out with them individually over and over again. That would take weeks.” His eagle owl hooted softly in thanks from her perch by the couch.

“I can go with you tomorrow.” Pansy bustled around the kitchen, preparing their teas. “We can go to Florean Fortescue’s after. They just had their grand reopening.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” Draco yawned.

“Shut up. Of course I’m going to.” She handed him a tea. “We haven’t done anything together in ages.”

“Pans, we’re always together.” Draco blew on his tea as they settled on the couch. “We live together and work together.”

After Draco’s trial Pansy had helped him get a job at the new wizarding club where she had been tending bar since the war ended. It was ideal for Draco to work somewhere dark and loud. It minimized the chance of him being recognized. Even so, the owner had said in no uncertain terms that if there was even a speck of trouble because of him and his past, whether he started it or not, they would both be out on their arses.

“That doesn’t count. I meant something fun.” Pansy took a sip of her tea. “Plus you’ll need someone to talk to in the insanely long post office line.”

“Thanks, Pans.” Draco rested his head in the crook of his elbow on the back of the couch. “What would I do without you?” he mumbled before he drifted off into the deepest sleep he’d had in months. 

~-~+~-~

“Draco, get up!” Pansy bustled out of her bedroom. “We have to hurry or we’ll miss the afternoon delivery.”

Draco harrumphed from his position, face down on the couch. “I’m up.”

“You fell asleep so quickly last night I didn’t want to wake you to move to your room.” Pansy heaved him off the couch. “I didn’t even think about you not setting an alarm. It’s already past noon.”

“Why do we have to make the afternoon delivery anyway?” Draco shuffled into his room to get dressed.

“It’s better to rip the bandaid off. If you sit and stew on those letters all day waiting for the evening delivery, you might not send them at all. And I know you want to.” Why did she have to be so logical?

“Fine, fine,” Draco groused on his way to the bathroom. “Can you stuff the letters in a bag or something?”

“Already done,” Pansy called from the living room. “Hurry up! We’re going to miss it!”

“Alright, alright!” Draco jogged to meet Pansy at the fireplace. 

She grabbed a pinch of powder and tossed it into the fireplace. “Owl Post Office, Diagon Alley.”

Draco waited a few moments to make sure she cleared the grate before following. He stumbled out of the floo and was immediately glad he hadn’t eaten yet. Walking into the Owl Post Office was like walking into a cloud of everlasting dungbombs.

“I always forget how bad it smells in here.” Draco wrinkled his nose, joining Pansy in line.

“What do you expect?” Pansy held a finger under her nose. “There has to be at least a hundred owls here at any given time, and hundreds more that pass through.”

“Shut up.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Do you think it would be weird to cast a Bubble Head Charm?”

“Yes. Do not do that, you fucking weirdo.” Pansy laughed. “The line isn’t that bad today. We’ll be out soon.”

An hour and a few freshening charms later they found themselves seated at the Leaky Cauldron. They had decided to get some real food before going to Fortescue’s, as Draco hadn’t eaten yet.

“Are you working tonight?” Pansy tucked into her food.

“A double,” Draco groaned. “I traded shifts with Watts so I could have off yesterday to write the letters. You?”

“I’m closing. So we’ll have hours and hours together.” Pansy jokingly batted her eyelashes at him.

“Ugh. I might as well quit now to get away from you.” Draco dodged a piece of bread Pansy threw at him.

“You love me and you know it.” Pansy stuck her tongue out. “I’m the one who hauled all those letters all the way to the Owl Post Office with you this morning.”

Draco and Pansy constantly bickered and teased each other. That’s just what happens when you’ve known someone since you were in diapers. But they both knew that there was little they wouldn’t do for each other. They had been each other’s support system during the war and even before. Pansy was the first person that Draco came out to. Draco was the person Pansy went to when she needed to vent about her parents. 

“Yeah. But I still have to send Potter’s with Noctua,” Draco recalled, “I never put it in an envelope last night and we were rushing out the door this morning.”

“I already did it when I put the letters in the bag.” Pansy took another bite. “It went with the rest of them we dropped off.”

Draco’s whole body went hot. “What letter did you put in the envelope?”

“The one with Potter’s name on it. Two pages. Next to the rest of the stack.” Pansy tilted her head. “Draco? Are you okay?”

“Oh fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Kudos and comments make my day! THANK YOU FOR READING!
> 
> Also, I'm from the US. I don't even begin to understand how the UK judicial system works, much less how wizarding courts differ from muggle ones. So that's why I presented the trial the way I did. But that's it for trial related things in this fic so eet eez what eet eez.
> 
> If you see any formatting or grammatical errors, please point them out to me so I can fix them. I'm my own beta so... you won't hurt my feelings.


	2. The Reply

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of a possible panic attack with hyperventilating. Nothing very detailed and it doesn't last long. But take care of yourselves. ♡

Draco could feel his heartbeat racing in his sweaty palms. His ears were ringing and he suddenly felt like he might be sick all over the Leaky Cauldron’s floor. He heaved in a breath.

“Pansy, we have to go.” He jumped up from the table. “NOW!”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” Pansy stumbled out the door as Draco dragged her by the wrist at full speed.

Draco ran full pelt all the way to the Owl Post Office and burst through the doors. He shoved past the line and up to the counter.

“I need my letter back! I just dropped it off. There was a mistake and I need it back,” he half shouted at the attendant.

“Sorry, son. Afternoon post went out right after you left.” The attendant shuffled some papers around. “If there’s anything else I can help you with, you can join the back of the line,” she added with a pointed look.

“No. There has to be some way to get it. Call the owl back or something.” Draco was fully panicking now.

“Can’t do that. If the owl’s in the air, we can’t get at it until it arrives at the delivery address.”

“No!” Draco was fully shouting now, ”No, you have to get it back!”

“Draco, calm down.” Pansy took his arm, eyeing the people around them that were very obviously staring. “It’s okay. Let’s just go home.”

“No! No, we can’t! I have to get the letter! Get off.” Draco tried unsuccessfully to pry his arm out of Pansy’s iron grip as she dragged him to the floo.

She threw a pinch of Floo Powder into the flames, said their address, and shoved him in. Draco tumbled out of the fireplace, into their living room, and straight onto the floor. Pansy gracefully stepped through and over his prone form.

“What the hell happened back there?” Pansy knelt down by Draco’s head. “Are you okay? I’m getting you a Calming Draught and then you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”

Draco pulled himself up by the couch cushions and rushed to the desk, hoping against hope that the letter was still there.

It wasn’t.

Pansy reentered with a phial in hand. “Here. It’s mild, but it’ll help. I think you’re working up to a panic attack and this should curb it.”

“It won’t help. I’m dying. This will literally kill me. And if it doesn’t, Potter will.”

Pansy forced the phial into Draco’s hand. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“That letter. It wasn’t two pages.” Draco paced behind the couch on shaking legs. “The second page was never meant to be sent.”

“Why does that make this a crisis though?” Pansy sat in the desk chair.

“Because the second page was what I wrote — after a considerable amount of firewhiskey — to clear my head before writing the real letter.” Draco pulled at his hair. “I called him perfect, Pansy. I told him I thought he had a fit arse. Oh fuck. I told him he was my sexual awakening.” 

Pansy was momentarily speechless. Quite a momentous occasion, but Draco was far too distracted with his hyperventilating to notice. Then she burst out in deep belly laughter. She snorted and shrieked and wrapped her arms around her middle.

“You-- you told-- you told him he-- he-- he has a fit arse!” she wheezed out between guffaws. “He was your s-- sexual awakening?” She gulped in air, trying to calm herself, tears of mirth flowing freely. “I knew you always thought he was fit, but really?”

Draco was starting to get light headed from hyperventilating, or he would have had a scathing remark to throw back at her. Instead he pulled the cork out of the phial with his teeth and spit it across the room before downing the Calming Draught. He immediately felt the cooling and relaxing effects trickle down from his scalp to his toes in a smooth wave. His breathing returned to normal and he was able to stop pacing. The shaking in his legs reduced to a tremble. The panic ebbing away, but the knowledge of the dire circumstances remained.

“Better?” she asked and waited for his nod before continuing, “It’s not that big of a deal. You won’t die and he won’t kill you, drama queen. He’ll think it was a weird joke.”

“And that’s so much better? If he thinks that, my sincere apology to go along with it now just looks like I’m mocking him. I said that I’d never be good enough for him. He’ll think I’m just trying to wind him up like we’re still thirteen! I TOLD HIM HE’S WHAT MADE ME REALIZE I WAS GAY, PANSY!” Draco ended in a full bellow.

“Okay, so it doesn’t look good, I’ll admit. But we’ll figure something out.” Pansy pulled him towards the couch. “Sit down. Take some deep breaths.” 

“We won’t. There’s nothing to be done.” Draco collapsed onto the couch, head in hands. “I can’t very well break into his house and steal the letter back before he opens it. I don’t know where he lives. And I’m sure the optics of ‘former Death Eater burglarizes Chosen One’s home’ are less than desirable.”

Pansy put a gentle hand between his shoulder blades and rubbed soothing circles. “Blame it on me. It was my fault that page got sent anyway. Just tell him I stuck it in there as a joke and didn’t tell you until after you sent it.”

“That-- that could work.” Draco rubbed his face. “I mean it’s an unbelievably shitty plan.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “But it’s better than admitting I wrote it when I was drunk and have fancied him since I was 14.”

Pansy smiled. “Have you really?”

“Shut up. You’ve known the whole time. And that I just deny it out of principle,” Draco huffed.

“I know.” She bumped his shoulder with her own. “I just wanted to hear you say it out loud.”

Draco spent the next few hours alternating between episodes of moping and stressing, Pansy always talking him down, until he had to get ready and leave for work. Draco knew he always felt better when he put extra effort into his appearance. So he put on his tightest jeans and a tailored shirt with an extra button undone at the top. Once he felt that he would be the hottest thing there that night, he flooed to the back room of the The Theatre.

If Draco didn’t work there, this would definitely be the type of club he would frequent. It was a retired 1920s proscenium theatre. The seating had all been taken from the house and replaced with a 360° bar with cocktail tables scattered around. The mezzanine had been converted into a lounge area with couches, end tables, and a few original audience chairs. The box seats were now reservable private booths with spiral staircases leading to the floor that were charmed to only admit those on the reservation and the staff. And the stage was now a dancefloor and DJ booth.

In the first few hours of Draco’s double shift he made slightly better tips than normal. But then again, he always did when he tried extra hard to look fit. When Pansy showed up with her customary plunging neckline and pouty lips, the tips picked up even more. The club hosted a healthy mixture of all orientations and genders so Pansy and Draco always made a good flirting-for-tips team. Everything was normal that night. Until—

“Pansy!” Draco blanched. “He got the letter.”

“How do you know?” Pansy kept pouring as she turned to see what Draco was staring at. “Oh.”

She followed his eyeline to one of the private box booths. And there in all his fit arse and rat’s nest hair glory was Harry Potter. He was surrounded by his usual group of sycophants, minus the Weaslette and Lovegood, who must be finishing up their seventh year at Hogwarts. They seemed to have just arrived and were getting settled. Of course they would reserve a private booth. Sodding war heroes. 

Potter looked even better than usual. He was only in black jeans and a white t-shirt. Positively pedestrian. But of course he looked fit in it. 

“Because he’s brought all his friends to assault me. Pansy.” Draco looked at Pansy with wild eyes. “I need to leave.”

“Assault you? Really, Draco? Calm down.” Pansy passed the drink to her customer and pulled Draco to the side. “They’re here all the time. Nothing is special about tonight.”

“No they’re not.” Draco put his back to the shelf of liquor so he was less exposed to attack. “I’ve never seen them here and I’ve been working here for weeks.”

“They’ve been out of the country since the trials ended. Only got back a few days ago.” Pansy shrugged. “It was all over the Prophet.”

“You know I don’t read the Prophet. Why didn’t you tell me they come here all the time before I started here?” Draco accused.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Because I knew you wouldn’t want the job. And that you’d be hard pressed to find another place that would hire you.”

Draco scowled at her.

“You know I’m right.” Pansy poured a shot of firewhiskey. “Potter doesn’t always come with them and I knew he’d be the only one you really had a problem with.”

“I’m going to hex you in your sleep, so help me Salazar.” Draco pointed a finger in Pansy’s face.

“Here.” Pansy handed him the shot. “Relax.”

“I’m stealing all your tips tonight.” Draco downed the shot and tossed her the empty shot glass before turning a wary eye back to the booth. But Potter wasn’t there.

“Malfoy?”

Draco froze for a split second before turning to his right to see Potter standing at the bar.

“What are you doing here?” It was just like Potter to jolt Draco back to his normal self by saying something stupid.

“I work here.” Draco arched a brow. “That or I’m about to get thrown out for being behind the bar.”

“Uh, right. Okay, then.” Potter scratched the back of his neck.

“What can I get you, Potter?” Pansy cut in.

He ordered a round of drink for his whole group, rich git. And Pansy went to pour them.

Potter turned back to Draco. “So, er, how long have you worked here?” 

“A few weeks.” Why was Potter acting so normal? Was he just waiting for the right moment to pounce?

Pansy came back with a tray of drinks and Potter handed her the Galleons.

“Thanks. I’ll see you around, Malfoy.” Potter went to pick the tray up off the bar.

“Wait, Potter.” Draco took a deep breath and Potter looked at him expectantly. “Um, have you opened your mail today?”

Draco inwardly cringed at how awkward this exchange was about to get.

“No. I get loads. It always piles up before I get around to it.” Potter shrugged. “Why?”

“This is going to sound infinitely strange but you received a letter from me today by mistake.” Draco wanted to hide his reddening face. “Don’t open it. Just send it back to me and I’ll send you the one that was meant to be sent in the first place.”

Draco couldn’t blame Potter for how bewildered he looked. “What?” 

“It was addressed to you by mistake. Don’t open it.” Draco knew Potter was a sucker for the downtrodden so he added a weak “please.”

“Uh, o--okay. I’ll owl it back to you tomorrow, I guess.” Potter waited for Draco to speak and when he didn’t, he began to pick the tray up again. “Well, er. Later, Malfoy.”

Draco nodded. “Potter.”

Potter carried the tray back towards the spiral staircase to his booth and Draco did  _ not _ watch his fit arse.

Pansy slid up next to Draco. “That wasn’t so bad. He’s so trusting.” She shook her head. “Gryffindors.”

“It’s not over until I have that still sealed envelope back in my hand.” Draco bumped Pansy away with his hip. “Until then, I’m still taking your tips.”

The next day Draco’s stress levels significantly increased the longer he went without receiving the letter back from Potter. Pansy tried to convince him that it was good not to hear from Potter too early in the day. She thought the longer he put it off, the less important Potter thought the situation. Draco thought that was ridiculous. The longer Potter had the letter, the more chances he would have to read it. 

Draco almost made himself late for work that evening, sitting around the flat waiting for an owl. He finally gave it up as a bad job and went to the club. Draco was loving the extra cushion the additional tips from last night gave his pocket money so he upped his wardrobe game a second night in a row. He wore another halfway buttoned tailored shirt and tight jeans. 

Draco had the early shift that night and spent the first bit of it getting everything ready before the club opened. The doors had been open for no more than five minutes when Potter trudged up to the bar with two pieces of parchment clutched in his hand.

“What the hell is this?” Potter demanded.

Fuck. He had opened the letter. Of course he had, he was a prat of the highest order, after all. Draco scrambled for an excuse. He thought briefly about simply running away as it had always saved him in the past. But Potter didn’t look angry. Well, maybe just a little angry, but mostly… Bewildered? Nonplussed? Unbalanced? Suffice it to say: confused. Maybe there was a way out of this without getting hexed afterall.

“What are you on about, Potter?” Draco employed all the haughtiness he could muster.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Potter brandished the two letters. “What does all this mean?”

Draco sniffed. “You said you wouldn’t open it.” 

“Yeah, well, you were being particularly shady.” Potter shrugged. “Now, come on. Out with it.”

Draco busied himself with wiping the bartop by hand so he didn’t have to make eye contact. “Pansy stuck the second page in as a joke. I wrote you a sincere letter and she thought it would be funny to write the second page, charm it to match my handwriting, and slip it in without telling me until after we left the Owl Post Office.” 

Potter paused for a moment. “Don’t you have an owl?”

“I had to mail a lot of things at one time. I wrote a great many letters to try to make amends for my part in the war.” Draco fiddled with the rag he was using. “Not that it’s any business of yours.”

“Oh.” Potter looked taken aback. “Er, that’s—”

“It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter. The point is Pansy is a bint and you were never meant to receive that letter. She made the whole thing up.” He threw the rag in the dirties bin. “Now if you don’t mind, I have work.” Draco stormed away from Potter around to the other side of the bar.

Draco busied himself with mixing drinks and keeping the bar clean all while refusing to walk around the other side to see if Potter was still there. He was not hiding. He  _ was not _ . But he wasn’t going to give Potter a chance to confront him again. 

Three mixed drinks, two beer pours, and one spill later Potter appeared around the edge of the bar. Draco decidedly avoided eye contact.

“Pansy didn’t write the second page.” 

“Yes, she did.” Draco finally looked at Potter, who still had the parchment in his hand and fire in his eyes. “She thought it would be hilarious. She’s clearly an idiot. Poor girl.” Draco walked along the bar to escape Potters piercing gaze, but the berk just followed him.

“No, I just ran diagnostics on it.” By this point they had made it halfway round the 360° bar. “The same person wrote both the letters.” 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Potter. She’s an idiot but she was always tops at Charms. Did you really stand at a nightclub bar running magical diagnostics on a letter just to prove me wrong?” Draco’s shoulders slumped slightly. “You know what, don’t answer that.” 

Potter huffed. “Well, I didn’t believe you. And obviously I was right.” 

Draco suddenly changed directions, causing Potter to skid to a halt and follow him back round the bar again. 

“Malfoy. Stop running.” 

Potter stuck his hand over the bar and caught Draco by the bicep. His fingers were warm and strong and made Draco stop short and stare at him. He felt just the whisper of a shiver run up his spine. He and Potter had so rarely actually touched in all the years they had known each other. There was the occasional fistfight (which Draco relished) but usually it was just insults and jinxes that were thrown. Draco looked down at where the hand gripped his arm. Potter tracked his movement and seemed to come back to himself. He let go. Draco tried not to mourn the loss. 

“Is there a problem here?” Shit. It was the club’s owner.

“Not at all, Mr. Alcott.” Draco straightened his back. “Just serving a customer, sir.”

Draco’s whole body seemed to want to melt into the floor. He couldn’t lose this job. This was exactly the kind of thing that fell under “making trouble” that he would be fired over. 

Potter must have recognized the fear in Draco’s eyes and plastered on his most winning (and very fake) smile. “Of course not. I was just taking the chance to catch up with an old friend. I’m sorry if I’ve kept him from his work.”

Alcott seemed to register just who it was he was talking to and immediately changed his demeanor. “Nonsense, Mr. Potter. You are our guest. Please enjoy your evening with us and let me know personally if there’s anything I can do to make your visit better.” Alcott angled his body away from Potter, glaring at Draco, and muttered, “Get back to work,” before turning to leave.

Both Draco and Potter watched him go until he was far out of earshot.

“Well, he’s a right prick.” Potter ruffled his hair.

“Shut up, Potter. You’re going to get me fired,” Draco hissed. “Stop making a scene and go away.”

“We’re not done with this conversation.” Potter thought of a moment. “What time do you get off?”

“No. This conversation is over and you need to leave before I lose my job.”

Potter seemed conflicted. Of course the noble hero wouldn’t want to risk anyone getting sacked on his account. 

“Fine,” he sighed. “But I’m not leaving. I’m going to wait until you get off and then we’re going to talk.”

He stalked off before Draco had a chance to object. Like hell he was going to go off with an angry Potter in the middle of the night. The thought of being alone with Potter in a dark alley brought all sorts of unwanted images to Draco’s mind. He shook himself and got back to work.

Draco knew he would need to slip away, at the end of the night, before Potter noticed what he was doing. He presumed Potter had gone up on the mezzanine where Draco couldn’t see him, but Potter could still keep tabs on Draco. As soon as Draco’s shift ended he planned to casually walk to the back room so as not to raise suspicion. But the second his nerves hit, that plan fell apart, and he ran all the way through the club, into the back, up to the fireplace and flooed home without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> As always: I'm my own beta so if you spot formatting or grammatical errors, please point them out to me so I can fix them.


	3. Return to Sender

“Pansy!” The second Draco walked through the floo and into the flat he was yelling.

Pansy ran in from the kitchen, wand in hand. “What?! What is it?!”

“He read the letter, Pans.” Draco dropped onto the couch. 

Pansy let out a huge breath and let her shoulders fall. “Merlin fuck, you scared the shit out of me!” She swatted the back of Draco’s head and tucked her wand in her pajama pocket.

“He read it and  _ brought it to the club _ to confront me about it,” Draco moaned, “Who does shit like that?”

Pansy looked like a perfect mix of sympathetic and starved for gossip when she asked for details.

Draco walked her through the entire encounter, making himself sound much braver when he got to the part about running away. Who was he kidding? Pansy would see right through that, but thankfully she didn’t comment on it.

“So, what are you going to do?” Pansy asked when he finished his story.

“What do you mean?” Draco tucked his feet under himself on the couch. “Nothing. I got out of there. There’s nothing to be done.”

“Oh, come on, Draco. You know Potter better than that. He’s not going to let it go.” Pansy Summoned her tea from the kitchen and cast a Warming Charm over it. “He might write you back and demand that you talk to him. But he’ll probably just show up to the club again. Good thing he doesn’t know where we live.”

Draco deflated. She was right. Potter never could leave well enough alone. 

“He better not. At least he left me alone when Alcott showed up. I told him he would get me fired if he kept making a scene.” Draco took Pansy’s tea out of her hands, took a sip, and gasped. “Fuck! You always make it too hot.”

“That’s how I like it. Serves you right for stealing it.” She took her tea back. “What are you going to do if he shows up at the club?”

“Ignore him.” Draco nodded sharply and got up to go to bed.

The next evening when Draco and Pansy showed up for the second shift Potter was already there, waiting in a booth.

“At least he doesn’t know your schedule,” Pansy muttered as they made their way from the back room to the bar.

Draco elbowed her in the ribs on his way to take his first order of the night. By the time he had mixed and served the drink, Potter had made his way to the bar. Draco couldn’t even hide behind another order because there were so few people clubbing on a Sunday night.

“Malfoy.” Potter stared into Draco’s eyes.

“What can I get you, Potter?” Draco looked back at him with a cool indifference.

Potter sighed. “You left. I want to talk to you.”

Draco shook his head. He was not going to let Potter get under his skin. Not again. Not like always. If he had any hope of convincing Potter that he hadn’t written that letter he had to remain composed.

“I can get you a drink, Potter.” Draco gestured to the shelves of liquor. “But nothing else. You don’t want to get me fired, do you?” He almost smirked at playing the Savior against himself like that.

Potter shifted his weight and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Fine. But I’m waiting again. You’re going to talk to me, Malfoy.”

Potter turned on his heel and stalked back up to his booth. Draco let out a breath and went to clear some abandoned glasses from the bar.

The rest of the night Potter sat up in his booth and stared down at the bar. Draco did his best to ignore the goosebumps this gave him, but to no avail. He tried to avoid looking at the booth, but again, to no avail. Every time he glanced at the booth, there was Potter. Watching.

“He’s being a bit creepy, yeah?” Pansy turned her back to the booths in case Potter was watching  _ that _ closely.

“He’s waiting to talk to me again.” Draco continued trading out fresh bottles on liquor. “I think he’s trying to make sure I don’t run off again.”

“Obviously.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “So you’re going to talk to him tonight?”

“Are you daft?” Draco tossed an empty firewhiskey bottle in the trash. “He’ll kill me.”

Pansy was right; Potter was being creepy. That couldn’t bode well for Draco. Potter had always been doggedly determined in everything he did, so this level of commitment wasn’t new. It was the fact that it was over a stupid letter. Something so small. Why did this matter so much to him? Draco couldn’t help but preen just a little bit that Potter was this obsessed. But that was ridiculous, right? There had to be a reason this was irking Potter so much.

At the end of the night, Draco waited until Potter was distracted by one of the servers clearing his glass, to run to the floo. Pansy tumbled out after him a few moments later.

“You can’t keep doing that. You should’ve seen his face when he saw you disappear. He looked furious for about half a second and then he looked like a kicked crup.” Pansy started taking off her shoes and earrings. “You know he’s going to keep coming back. He’s stubborn.”

Draco cracked his neck and cringed at how stiff it was. He’d been on edge since the second he walked into the club. “I don’t know what else to do, Pans. I can’t tell him what really happened.” He shook his head and sighed. 

Unsurprisingly, Potter was at the club every night that week. Staring down at Draco. It was unsettling. There was a heat in his gaze that Draco couldn’t quite identify. He was determined, sure. But there was something else there. 

He never drank very much, probably trying to keep a clear head to catch Draco. He just sat there. Gods, it was annoying.

Draco had to escape in different ways each night, so Potter couldn’t catch him. One night he sent a server up to the booth with a shot Potter hadn’t ordered. One night he “accidentally” reset the charms on the staircase to Potter’s booth so no one could go up or down it. By the time Potter had broken through, Draco was long gone. It was getting ridiculous. 

By the time Friday rolled around, Draco was out of ideas on how to escape. 

He sidled up to Pansy at the end of their shifts. “How much do you love me?” 

“Not enough to do whatever it is you’re about to ask me to do.” Pansy continued piling dirty glasses in a bus bin.

“Shut up, yes you do.” Draco flicked her shoulder. “I need you to go distract Potter while I get out.”

“Are you kidding me, Draco?” Pansy turned to face him. “You can’t keep ignoring him. You have to talk to him eventually. He’s never going to leave.” She sighed. “The two of you never could back down from the other. And at this point it’s not even about the letter. It’s a battle of wills. And we both know he’s not going to give up.”

Draco groaned. “I know. I’m just not ready. I don’t know what to say to him. I can’t very well tell him the truth.” He was grasping at straws. “Just go distract him. Please, Pans.”

“Fine.” Pansy crossed her arms. “But this is it. I’m not going to keep helping you avoid him.”

“You’re the best.” Draco grabbed her by the chin and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“You owe me.” Pansy wiped the saliva off her face with a grimace. “Now get out of here.”

Draco waited until Pansy was on the stairs to Potter’s booth before he bolted for the back room. When he got back to the flat he immediately got in the shower. He needed a scalding shower to scrub the stress of Potter’s determined voyeurism off him.

Draco was walking from their shared bathroom back to his bedroom when Pansy came through the floo.

“What took you so long?” Draco rubbed a towel over his hair. “Did Alcott make you clean the bathroom again?”

Pansy looked flustered for a moment before responding, “Uh, yeah, he did. Arsehole.”

Draco stopped in his doorway. “I can tell when you’re lying. What happened?”

“Nothing! Goodnight.” Pansy scampered to her room and shut the door.

Draco shook his head and followed suit. He’d have to spend some time tonight thinking of how to slip away from Potter after work tomorrow.

Turns out, he needn’t have thought at all. Because Pansy was a fucking traitor. The next night as their shifts were ending she pulled him out from behind the bar to the side opposite Potter’s booth so he was blocked from view. She mumbled some excuse about “being for his own good” before Potter turned up right next to them.

“I have to go.” Draco tried to push past Pansy but she caught his arm.

“Nope. You’re going to talk to Potter.” Pansy shoved him by the arm at Potter. “And you’re going to clear the air so he stops stalking the club.”

Draco hoped the daggers he was glaring at her would pierce her heart but she just nodded a goodnight and walked away.

“Malfoy. I just want to talk to you.” Potter looked at him imploringly.

“Fine. Come with me.” Draco led him out the back door into the alley behind the club. He considered making a run for it but he knew Potter would catch him before he got far. The alley was dark and wet, from the recent rain, and had an aura of foreboding. This conversation could go one of two ways; Potter would believe the lies and leave him alone (unlikely) or Draco would embarrass himself in front of the man he’d fancied for years (significantly more likely).

“Just because I’m off the clock doesn’t mean Alcott won’t hold it against me for standing around,” Draco offered in explanation for the change of venue.

Potter stepped out the door after him. “He seems like a shit boss.”

“Is that really what you wanted to talk to me about? You’ve got five minutes.” Draco made a show of checking his watch before wrapping his arms around himself as a light breeze swept through the alley.

“Okay, fine.” Potter scuffed his trainer across the asphalt. “I would say I can’t believe how difficult you’re being about this, but I really, really can believe it.”

Draco scoffed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That I know you, Malfoy. I’ve known you since we were 11. This is how you react to vulnerable situations.” Draco tried to interrupt but Potter wouldn’t let him. “But it doesn’t matter. That’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

“And what is it you want to talk about then? Hmm?” Draco sneered.

Potter scratched the back of his neck. “Fuck, this was easier to tell Pansy. I told her last night so she could get you to talk to me.” 

Draco was fuming. So that’s why she got home late last night. He had assumed she’d just been shagging a customer. 

“At your trial...” 

Well, that took an unexpected turn. 

“At your trial, you got outed. I’m sorry that it happened under Veritaserum, by the way. No one deserves that. But that’s not the point. But before that you said a gay man could change the course of the war.”

Draco was taken aback. Potter remembered his exact words. But why?

“I thought you meant me. I thought you found out. About me.” Potter was barely pausing for breath. “I couldn’t figure out how you knew. Very few people know. Just Ron and Hermione, actually.”

Draco raised a brow. “You mean to tell me, you’re gay?”

Potter didn’t even pause. “Then you sent me that letter and I didn’t know if you were taking the piss out of me for being gay. But that didn’t make sense because you’re gay too. And that’s on top of the fact that you wrote a sincere letter along with it. And Ron and Hermione told me about the letters you sent them as well. And how great they were. And I’ve just wanted to talk to you about it. And I’ve had to sit in that club night after night just to get you to look at me. And the whole time, you’re down there looking fit as fuck, and literally running away from me. I just want you to tell me what’s going on! Why did you lie and say Pansy wrote it?”

Draco’s brain must have short circuited during Potter’s speech. He was furious at Potter for bringing up his trial. He was furious at Pansy for orchestrating this confrontation. But mostly he was furious at Potter for making fun of him like that.

Draco was seething. All the pent up anxiety and anger over the situation was finally boiling over. 

He got right in Potter’s face and began yelling, “What do you want me to say? That I wrote that letter when I was fucking drunk and didn’t know how to write my apology to you. Is that what you want to hear? That I’ve fancied you since I was 14? That I really do think you have a fit arse? Is that really what you want to hear?”

“Yes.”

Potter grabbed Draco by the back of the head and smashed their lips together. Draco froze. He was kissing Harry Potter. Harry Potter was kissing  _ him. __ _His lips were warm and soft and insistent. After a moment Potter threaded his fingers through Draco’s hair and pressed their bodies together. This snapped Draco out of his lust-fueled daze and he shoved Potter away.__

__

__

__

“What the fuck, Potter?” Draco snarled. He reeled back and gasped for air as his eyes prickled. “How dare you? Just because I got outed and happen to fancy you. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble of making fun of me to turn me down. Pretending to be gay to take piss out of me? You’re dating the Weaslette! Yeah, right, the Hero of the Wizarding World is gay and no one knows about it? Fuck off, Potter. And stop coming to my job.”

__

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__

With that Draco Apparated away before Potter could even respond. He landed in the living room of his flat looking murderous.

__

__

__

“How’d it go?” Pansy sat on the couch, chewing her lip.

__

__

__

“Fuck off!” Pansy flinched as Draco screamed, narrowly avoiding spilling the tears that were welling up in his eyes. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t mailed that fucking letter or made me talk to Potter none of this would have happened. Goodnight and fuck you!”

__

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__

Draco ran into his room and slammed the door so hard he heard a bit of plaster crumble.

__

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__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	4. Special Delivery

Draco flooed in sick. Draco had never flooed in sick before. He had always traded shifts with someone so he didn’t lose any money or make Alcott mad. But it was the day of and he didn’t feel like floo calling four different coworkers to find one who was willing to work that night. It was Saturday, so odds were anyone would be dying to take that shift for the boost in tips, but whatever. He didn’t want to. He barely wanted to get out of bed to floo call Alcott to let him know he was “sick.” But it was that or get fired for not showing up to work. So, needs must. 

Draco moped around the flat in his pajamas most of the day. Until she left for work, he avoided Pansy’s questions about his conversation the night before with Potter. Pansy had the early shift that night so at least she wasn't home all evening to witness his rout. 

Draco assumed Potter would be at the club that night and had no intention of facing him. While Draco didn’t have to see him, Potter was still all he could think about. He decided to distract himself in any way that he could. There were always chores around the flat that he and Pansy were putting off.

He gathered up all their dirty clothes in a laundry bag with an undetectable extension charm. Normally they took their own clothes to the elf laundromat or went together so they could each pay their portion but Draco was feeling remorseful for shouting at Pansy. She really did have his best interest at heart. She just went about it the wrong way by forcing him into Potter’s clutches.

Draco decided to walk the several blocks to the laundromat, hoping the fresh air would do him good. He threw on some robes to hide his pajamas, slung the laundry bag over his shoulder, and stepped into the cool evening. He toed the pebbles off the sidewalk as he walked and reminisced about his Hogwarts days when all he had to do for laundry was put it in the hamper and wait for the elves to return it folded and hung in his wardrobe. Of course, not everything about his Hogwarts days was worth reminiscing over. This brought his thoughts back to Potter.

Draco and Potter had a contentious relationship from day one, no one could dispute that. But the hatred, at least Draco’s hatred, was based on jealousy and wounded pride. He had wanted to be Potter’s friend but was beat out by the Weasel. It had been humiliating. Then, of course, later on the tension was more of the unresolved sexual nature, again, just on Draco’s part.

In the Slytherin dorm the other boys would occasionally talk about the girls they thought were fit but Draco never had much to contribute to those conversations. He didn’t know why until fourth year. Ever since Draco saw the way Potter flew against the Hungarian Horntail, he knew his fixation on the other boy was more than jealousy. He couldn’t contribute to conversations about fit girls because none of them came close to how Potter made him feel.

Of course, Draco knew that Potter would never feel the same way about him. So he asked Pansy to the Yule Ball and tried to put it out of his mind. But Draco never really was very good at controlling his thoughts. When Pansy tried to snog him at the Yule Ball, he found himself, literally and figuratively, backed into a corner. That’s when he had come out to Pansy. And being Pansy, she had supported him fully. She was even excited to have someone with which to talk about fit blokes. Now, those were conversations Draco could contribute to.

While Potter may have made him realize he liked blokes, he wasn’t the only fit bloke around. Plus, he had refused to admit to Pansy that he fancied Potter. Somehow he always came up though. They would be talking about Theo’s arse and Draco would say that Seekers had the best arses. Or they would be talking about Blaise’s eyes and Draco would say that nothing compared to green eyes. Eventually Pansy had cottoned on. 

Suddenly, Draco found himself standing in the laundromat. He had been lost in thought the whole way there. He dropped the bag off, paid the elf, and accepted the claim ticket. Since the fresh air didn’t seem to be doing much to clear his thoughts, Draco decided to Apparate home. Maybe a bath would help.

Draco landed in the living room and draped his robes over the back of the couch. He made his way to the bathroom, turned on the taps, and set about picking what bubbles and oils he was in the mood for. He landed on lavender for relaxation with a dash of eucalyptus to ease his tension. Once the tub was full of purple bubbles, he tossed his pajamas in the hamper and eased himself into the hot water.

It had been too long since he’d done this last. Usually he showered quickly and got on with his business but tonight he was focussing on making himself feel better about his shit predicament. No. He wasn’t going to think about it. At all.

He wasn’t going to think about Potter lying about being gay. What was that even about? There were so many other ways to take the piss out of Draco without fake coming out. He was dating the Weasel’s sister. He couldn’t be gay. 

He wasn’t going to think about the fact that Potter said Granger and Weasley had mentioned his apology letters. And how, by extension, Potter probably told them about his letters. Both letters. So all three of them were probably laughing at and disgusted by him right this very minute.

He wasn’t going to think about Potter calling him fit as fuck while he tended bar. There was just too much to unpack there. Obviously, Draco knew he was quite fit. And that not just those who fancied blokes noticed. But Potter couldn’t have meant it for real. Whether or not he was actually gay, he wouldn’t think Draco was fit with everything in their past to muddy the situation.

And he definitely wasn’t going to think about That Kiss. Well, maybe just a little bit. It had been quite a nice kiss until Draco had run away. No. Not run away. He had stormed out. He had gotten the last word. He had shown Potter not to mess with him. That’s what he had done.

Draco washed himself and finally got to use that new hair potion he had bought. This only occupied his mind for a few minutes. He had spent far too much time that evening thinking about Potter. What’s new?

Draco reached over the side of the tub for his wand and Accioed the muggle thriller he was in the middle of reading. He flipped to the right page, scooted further into the water, and rested his head on the edge of the tub. 

Now this was actually keeping his mind occupied. He was so engrossed in reading that he had to cast a Warming Charm on the bath water when it cooled two different times. He reached the end of a chapter just as he would have had to cast another and decided to relocate to his warm bed instead.

He got out of the tub and dried off before wrapping himself in his ridiculously fluffy bathrobe. It was the best purchase he had ever made. He gathered his dirty pajamas, wand, and book before heading back to his room. He was halfway there when the floo roared and out stepped Pansy.

“Hey.” Pansy looked nervous. Why did she look nervous?

“Hey?” Draco raised a brow. 

Pansy took a step further into the room. “You should get dressed.”

“Um, why? I’m about to go to bed.” Draco took a few more steps towards his room.

“Because—”

The floo roared again. And out stepped Potter.

“What the fuck?” Draco froze. 

“Draco.” Pansy put her hands up and slowly walked towards him, like someone trying to pacify a spooked horse. “You need to finish your conversation from last night. Potter told me you never got to finish it because you Apparated away.”

Potter took a step forward. “Malfoy—”

“Nope. This is not happening. We talked. We’re done.” Draco drew himself up to his full height. “I’m going to get dressed and by the time I come out, you had better be gone.”

Draco stormed into his room and shut the door behind him. Fuck. Potter was in his flat. And they all knew he wouldn’t be leaving while Draco got dressed. Draco leaned against the door and tried to collect his thoughts. 

He didn’t have anything new to say to Potter. He had pretty much shouted everything he had to say last night. Why wasn’t that enough for Potter? The fucking prick.

Draco pulled on a pair of jeans and a fitted t-shirt. He cast a quick Drying Charm at his hair so he felt more put together and less wrongfooted in this situation. 

When Draco had stalled for as long as was justifiable, he stepped out of his room. Potter sat awkwardly on the couch while Pansy puttered agitatedly about the kitchen. They wouldn’t have any privacy for what was sure to be a humiliating conversation if they stayed in the living room.

“Potter,” Draco announced.

Potter whipped his head around, he obviously hadn’t heard Draco come out. He stood abruptly then seemed to run out of things to do. Draco let him squirm for a few moments before motioning to his open bedroom door. Potter took the hint and scuttled over to Draco who led him inside.

“Malfoy,” Potter began once the door was shut behind them, “I just want to talk—”

“Oh you want to talk do you?” Draco sneered. “Not in the mood to pretend to be gay and then snog me?”

Potter looked taken aback. “I wasn’t pretending. I am gay.”

“We’ve been over this, Potty.” Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re dating a woman.”

“I’m not.” Potter sighed. “We broke up before I went on the run in the War. It’s been over a year. ”

“Oh.” Draco didn’t know how to respond to that. He definitely didn’t want to start talking about the War.

“Yeah.” Potter scratched the back of his neck. “So, I’m not pretending to be gay. I just didn’t know I was gay yet when I was dating Ginny.”

“Well, why doesn’t anyone know?” Draco petulantly crossed his arms.

Potter gave him a hard look. “Because the Wizarding world isn’t entitled to every bit of information about my personal life, contrary to what people like Rita Skeeter tend to believe. It’s none of their business. Besides, I’m not seeing anyone so I don’t see the point in making an announcement.”

Draco swallowed. “Okay.”

This was a lot to process. Draco shuffled over and sank down on the bench at the end of his bed. Potter hovered awkwardly by the door. At least he had enough manners to wait for an invitation to take a seat. Draco gestured at the bench. Potter ambled over, sat down, and turned to face Draco.

“Right. Er.” Potter squirmed. “So I actually am gay.”

“You said.” Draco continued to stare at the wall opposite them and not turn to face Potter.

“And I wasn’t making fun of you about also being gay.”

Draco blinked. “Okay?”

“And you fancy me.”

“Do not.” Draco bit out.

“And I fancy you.”

Draco whipped his head around to face Potter. “Do not!”

“Do too.” Potter shuffled ever so slightly towards Draco. “I haven’t known I’m gay for that long, but I know what it feels like to fancy someone.”

“Shut up.” Draco’s eyes were wide.

“I think I’ve had crushes on blokes for a long time, I just didn’t know what it was until recently.” Potter looked so earnest. “Looking back, I know there has to be a reason we were at each other’s throats since we met. I think I fancied you and just didn’t know what to do with the feelings.”

Draco’s cheeks were so hot. It must have been left over from the warm bath.

He tried to distract from it with antagonism. “You don’t expect me to believe you came up with that all on your own, Potter. We both know you’re not that smart.”

Potter chuckled. “Hermione helped me work it out, actually. Ron helped too. He was the one to first mention that I had a thing for you other than being enemies.”

“Of course she did. Brightest witch of our age and all that.” Draco rolled his eyes. “But the Weasel having emotional insight? Impossible.”

Potter laughed again. Why wasn’t he deeply offended by Draco absolutely cutting wit?

The laugh was followed by a deeply uncomfortable silence. Draco uncrossed and recrossed his legs. Potter traced his finger over the patterns on the couch. Time stopped for a few moments and Draco wished it would quit taking its sweet time and get moving again.

Draco cleared his throat. “So.”

“So.” Potter met his eye.

“So… that kiss… was real?” If only there was a spell to make this conversation less uncomfortable.

“Um. Yes?” Potter scratched his neck and focused on his knees. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Draco said before he could stop himself.

Potter glanced up to Draco’s face. “Yeah?”

Draco put his nose in the air. “I mean, as far as kisses go. It could have been worse.”

In fact, it had been one of the best kisses of Draco’s life. But Potter didn’t need to know that.

Potter’s whole body drained of tension. He let out a deep belly laugh that made Draco tingle all over.

“Go on then.” Potter’s laughter subsided into a grin. “Who scores higher than me on the Draco Malfoy Kiss Scale?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” Draco smirked as Potter glanced down at his lips. “But I’m sure you could improve upon your overall score if you had another chance.”

By the time Draco finished his sentence Potter had inched his way down the bench until they were pressed together at the thigh, from hips to knees. They were so close, when Draco turned his head, their noses nearly brushed.

“You know how competitive I am.” Potter slid his hand onto Draco’s neck so his thumb stroked Draco’s jaw and his fingers brushed his nape. “Got to have another go.”

Draco’s eyes flicked to Potter’s gorgeous pink lips that were parted just so slightly, and back up to his eyes again. Out of all the snogs Draco had ever had, he knew there had never been one so intense or intimate, and it hadn’t even begun yet. 

When their lips finally met, it was nothing like the kiss in the alley. This one was soft, and slow, and tentative. Sweet. It was sweet. However, it rapidly heated up when Draco turned his torso to face Potter more fully and tangled his hands in that insufferably charming rat’s nest. Potter let out the tiniest of moans and grabbed Draco by the hips and hoisted him to straddle his lap.

“Have to— to tell— Pansy— we’re not— killing each other,” Potter gasped out between kisses down Draco’s jawline and neck.

“Let her worry. This is all her fault anyway,” Draco breathed as Potter peeled his shirt off, muffling his words. He threw his head back and let out a gasp as Potter kissed and licked and nipped down his chest.

“So she’s to  _ thank _ then.” Potter leaned back just far enough to tug his own shirt over his head and fling it on the floor, before pouncing on Draco’s neck with open mouthed kisses.

“Semantics.” Draco began unbuttoning Potter’s trousers; it proved quite a feat, what with Draco being in his lap.

“You don’t think she’ll come check to make sure I don’t have you in an Incarcerous or something?” Potter pushed Draco farther down his thighs towards his knees so he could get at the button on Draco’s jeans.

“Now there’s an idea.” Draco met Harry’s gaze with a raised brow. “Is Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived Twice, The Chosen One, The Saviour of the Wizarding World  _ blushing_?”

“No. Shut up.” Potter tried to hide his smile. “Now go tell Pansy we’re fine before she walks in here and gets an eyeful.”

Draco planted one more kiss on Potter’s lips before standing and walking over to the bedroom door. He opened it and yelled out into the rest of the flat.

“Pansy! We’re not killing each other.” Draco smirked and added, “And don’t come in unless you want to see the Chosen Cock!” 

He heard Potter choke from behind him at that last bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all she wrote. (That's actually a lie. I have several paragraphs of other stuff that I thought I would include but didn't fit in the overall work. I'll just have to write more fics to put them in.) 
> 
> Thanks for reading, kudosing, and commenting! It really does make my day. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! What did you think would be different? Did you make any predictions that turned out right? 
> 
> Also as always, I don't have a beta so if you catch any errors feel free to point them out so I can fix them.


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